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A burst of sudden wings at dawn,

Faint voices in a dreamy noon,

Evenings of mists and murmurings,

And nights with rainbows of the moon.


And through these things a wood-way dim,

And waters dim, and slow sheep seen

On uphill paths that wind away

Through summer sounds and harvest green.


This is a song a robin sang

This morning on a broken tree,

It was about the little fields

That call across the world to me.


Francis Ledwidge, Belgium,

July, 1917.



A Robin on a Broken Tree

Ar Goeden Friw

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